Dead Things
by Lorelei-Liddy
Summary: Takes place within episode of same title.
1. Buffy

"You always hurt the one you love pet" his voice was resigned and yet at the same time held a note of triumph.  
  
She stared down in horror at her still clenched fist and looked back at the fallen figure. He was reclined against the cold of the wet alley and already his features were swelling in protest of the vicious hits that her fists had delivered.  
  
The battered face looked up at her and she stared down at his features in horror. The knuckles on her hands were grazed and stinging from where she had broken the skin but the pain was barely perceivable.  
  
The panic of the moment was gone and she was left numb.  
  
Everything she had worked for. The fights, the sacrifices and she had been so close to just giving it all up.  
  
And yet a woman was dead. The guilt welled up within but she wondered if she actually cared.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
Her eyes welled up with tears and she hurriedly tried to blink them back before she looked towards the figure that she had knocked to the ground. As she met his gaze however the tears returned and she gave him a weak smile.  
  
He lay there on the floor. Not moving. Trying to anticipate her next move. Second guessing her - trying to know her but kept at a distance. She looked down at him and wondered why he made no move to rise. Why did he hold back?  
  
"I'm . I." There was nothing she could say. How did someone put into words that they no longer knew themselves? How could she explain that though she had struck him with the full force of her power she now wanted to kneel and caress the cuts that marred his features?  
  
Every day was a battle. Every hour was more time spent wondering when it would all come to an end. He had promised her once that when she was ready he would be there and yet here they were. They seemed locked in this battle that kept them bloody and bruised and yet never satisfied.  
  
"Why do you love me Spike?" Once again she needed to hear him say it. Maybe if he was able to put it into words then she could be content this time.  
  
He laughed as he heard the words, "Bugger me if I know."  
  
The question remained hanging in the air however and he soon sighed and gave her the response that she knew he would give.  
  
"Because you're strong, determined. You're good and fair. You love your friends and you respect your enemies. And we belong together you and I ." He always gave the same response to the question. No matter how many times she asked. He always looked at her in the way that he did at this moment. It was as though he was trying to see inside to her soul.  
  
But he was never able to. He was never able to see inside to the truth.  
  
The tears spilled over and ran unchecked down her cheeks. Her vision blurred and Spike became a shadow as Buffy realised that he would never be able to say the words that she wanted to hear.  
  
"You don't." She stepped closer to him and maybe he flinched away but Buffy did not see. She continued to approach him and then bent down so that she was level with him.  
  
"You're not in love with me - you're in love with her." Her voice broke and she angrily swiped at the tears.  
  
"It's her you want. It's her that you see when you look at me and yet you've not figured it out yet." Buffy laughed and swayed a little. She dropped to her knees and stared through Spike into an unfocussed distance.  
  
"I've figured it out love. I'm just waiting for you to catch up." His voice was steady and she wondered if this was the tone that he used to use on Drusilla. They had been together for over a hundred years. He must have a dozen different ways to deal with an hysterical woman.  
  
"I'm not her!" she was sobbed as she shouted out those three words. And as she spoke them she realised the truth. She was no longer that girl who had sacrificed everything for her sister. Slowly that girl had been eroded away. Maybe it had happened even before then. Even before that moment when she had looked at Dawn and realised how death could be her gift.  
  
A slayer could never be that girl. Ultimately a slayer is alone. She had always known that. Just as she knew that a slayer came with a short term warranty. A girl is summoned, she fights the evil, evil kills her and another is summoned. She had had her run and there was nothing left to carry on.  
  
As she looked towards Spike her gaze was accusing.  
  
"You're in love with her. The slayer. You're obsessed. Stuck in this sick little fantasy where I'm still what I was and ." her voice broke off. She might call him sick, an evil twisted thing. Soulless. And yet that was how she herself felt soulless. It was as though when they had brought her back a part of her had been let behind.  
  
"We used to be friends," her tears had cleared and Buffy now looked down at the blood that stained her hands. Not all of it was hers, "Do you remember?"  
  
"We were never friends pet. Enemies. Companions but never friends."  
  
"Why do you love me?" 


	2. Spike

"Why do you love me?"  
  
And there she goes again. Looking at him accusingly. Did she expect him to try and justify it? He'd made it clear all along that it wasn't something that he was in control of. Bloody hell. Did she think that he got some sort of thrill from being beaten to a pulp by the slayer and then .?  
  
Okay possibly not the best scenario.  
  
Why did he love her? Was it because that when he spoke to her he knew that there was someone there taking note of what he said? Even if it was just to mock him. Was it because sometimes when he looked at her the light shone through so brightly that it hurt his eyes and made him want to reach out for her and touch it?  
  
When the sun was up and he was left stranded and alone in his crypt he sometimes wondered about what sort of relationship he and Buffy had. If relationship was the word for the wham, bam, thank you mam treatment that he usually received from the slayer.  
  
Maybe Buffy didn't realise it, but she needed him.  
  
Or there again maybe she did realise it and that was the reason why she kept asking that question.  
  
Why did he love the slayer? Why was the slayer so desperate for an explanation of the unexplainable?  
  
He recalled the first time he had caught a glimpse of her in the Bronze. His head had been full of Dru and yet he had noticed the feline way that she writhed in time to the music. She didn't like him to compare her to an animal but that was what she was. It was the way she had to be to survive.  
  
The slayer relied on her instincts. It was reaction and impulse that counted rather than brain. He could understand that. It was the reason he had lasted so long himself.  
  
Impulse and reaction.  
  
Right now however those instincts were failing him. He knew that she was waiting for something more.  
  
And yet there was no more that he could give. 


End file.
